


Haunted

by Dream_Wreaver



Series: Haunted [1]
Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: DNAmy never dug Monty out, F/M, Yori saw what happened, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 21:57:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10953522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_Wreaver/pseuds/Dream_Wreaver
Summary: Years pass and she cannot forget. Her heart refuses to let the past die, what's a ninja to do? Try and make peace, but how? And why does he haunt her so?Cross posted like all my other works





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> So... yeah, this came about after listening to some song and it made me think of what might have happened had this been the case. So here we are.

The incident had been like a car crash. Something horrifying but that one was for some reason unable to look away from. A fitting end for a monster such as him, and yet something still didn’t feel right. But she ignored it. she had to, or else it would make her question every other decision she had ever made, and every decision she would come to make in the following years.

And the years passed. She blossomed from a skilled and graceful teenage girl to a beautiful woman who grew in her talents. She was the best at what she did, and her responsibilities only grew as a result. Missions, many of them, completed with perfect execution. She felt no guilt, not when it came to this. This was her job, her duty, her honor. She had no regrets. Not in the daytime at least.

But at night she rarely found solitude in sleep. It had come to the point where meditation was her only respite. Any time she closed her eyes otherwise she was transported back in time. Back to that day. Back to those horrifying visions. His screams, his pleas for mercy echoed within her ears. The look of terror on his face was burned into her retinas. He haunted her, even without death or an angry spirit, he haunted her. Her dreams were nothing but an endless loop of his final moments. So she had learned to stop dreaming. And the only way to stop was to sleep without sleeping.

That had been why she turned to meditation, so she could continue on her path without questioning herself. Without feeling the guilt. She knew she could have done something had she but spoken. But she didn’t, it hadn’t been her place to intervene. He had chosen that path, and had deserved to reap what he –what his obsession- had sown. And yet, she still felt guilty. Perhaps she was too kind-hearted. That had always been a flaw of hers. To the point where if a mission required someone’s death she had to be paired with someone having far less scruples. She could maim, she could injure, she could disfigure. But she could never kill.

Perhaps he was the reason why. Seeing his death, it had scarred her. Even if he wasn’t really dead, he essentially was and that was what scarred her. she knew her arts, her way of life held a dark side. But seeing firsthand the effects of it… she couldn’t think on it anymore. So there she was, in the middle of meditating in the yard. She felt a presence approach her.

“You must stop this,” came a voice. She knew this voice; it had been the one constant for as long as she could remember. Probably longer, since her whole life had been this place. Abandoned by her parents, this world was the only one she knew, the only world where she felt she belonged.

And then He had come along. Someone so different than she who strived for his goals. It would have been admirable had that trait not led him down the darkest path a person could travel. She had no doubt that, unlike her, he was willing and probably _had_ killed to get what he wanted. He had never been a good man, and yet there was something about him that has always intrigued her.

Her master spoke again, “My child, you wear yourself out doing this. One day, you will not gain rest from it and then what will you do? Your only respite is dwindling in power. Why do you not sleep?”

“I cannot,” she answered, not telling the whole truth, but not lying either.

“And why is that?” the question was a simple one. Simply the most difficult to answer that was. Why? One word, one tiny unassuming word. And yet it could stir up feelings one never wanted to see the light of day.

“Because,” she tried to evade. When he merely stared, waiting for her to go on she found she could not refuse the one who had raised her, “I am… _haunted_ Master.”

“What spirit plagues you?”

“Many, spectres of the past. Visions of the atrocities I have witnessed in my life assail me every time I close my eyes.”

“But there is one in particular,” he said astutely.

“Indeed,” she agreed, “I know that it had never been my place to interfere. And yet my heart cries injustice at the fate which had been decreed.”

“There is only one solution then,” her master said.

“And what is that?” she asked.

“In order to lay the past to rest you must make your peace with it,” he said sagely.

“And how would I do that Master?” she queried, seeking his guidance, “That which haunts me, to make peace with it, what do you suggest I go?”

“You are a wise and righteous girl,” he told her, “You will find a way. And whatever path Fate places you on, know that you will always have a home here.”

“Even if disgrace finds me a worthy companion?”

“Even then. You have always done that which is easy. Now it is time for you to do what you feel is right.”

~

The night air was cold and clear. The moon cast its soft and pale light even as it waned in its cycle. Stars shone brightly from a place even more isolated than here. Shadows draped themselves over the buildings, lazing about without a care. She appreciated them this night though. Her master may have known where she was going, and what she was going to do. He may have even approved of her actions. But their laws dictated how he could speak, and this was not in accordance with their way of life. That was why she would have to once again prove herself the best at what she did. To be caught would mean ultimate dishonor.

Lightly as a butterfly wing her feet touched upon the ground. She moved without even the air protesting its disturbance. The wind blew gently, urging her on. There came a noise, a light from a candle shining through one of the walls. Her heart stopped, surely they weren’t looking for her, right? The light moved as though the bearer _was_ searching for something, or someone. Whatever the case, she knew she had to leave or else risk everything. And she was risking quite a lot as it stood.

She was not a traitor, would never turn traitor for anyone. Yet she knew that if someone were to catch her that was exactly what she would be branded. And even her master would be unable to save her then. She focused her energy, willing her pulse to return to normal while she concentrated her efforts on hiding. She knew when it worked, when the shadows she stood in wrapped themselves around her and hid her from view. The light extinguished itself, and footsteps grew fainter as the distance between her and them grew further. When more than a suitable amount of time had passed and she had utter assurance she was once again alone with the night did she dare move.

Swiftly she exited the gate and stopped. When last she had seen the cursed temple it had sunken into the earth right here before her. Yet she knew that was not where it was. Magic had brought it to where it was. Magic had also returned it to where it belonged. Unlike him, she had no maps. But also unlike him: she did not need them. Her connection to guilt was so strong she could sense him, even with the distance separating them. Closing her eyes and listening to that something inside herself telling her where she needed to be: she leapt. She traversed the wilds faster than she should have, adrenaline filling her limbs with countless energy.

She soon arrived at her destination. An expanse of nothing but empty sand filled her vision. She knew what needed to be done. She walked until she found the exact location, then sunk to her knees and began to dig. The hours passed, and her fingers grew raw, but at last she found it. the ring, the ancient ring. The one that would bring her past, her nightmares to light.

She faced a choice now. Nothing had been set in stone as of yet. She could rebury the ring and go back. No one would ever know of the transgression she had almost committed. She could continue on as she had before.

Who was she kidding? She asked herself. She could no longer go back the moment she stepped outside the gates, the moment she had made her decision to even attempt this. A deep breath in and out to steady her nerves: she grasped the ring and pulled.

Out from the depths of the earth the temple rose, looking as it was and always would be. The only difference was the figure that topped it. As still and unmoved as the day it had happened, there he was. She approached the steps, readying herself to reach him when she heard it. there was someone else here. Had she been followed? No, she quickly remembered that no one could outmatch her in stealth. That meant that had to have been here all along.

She was proven right when a hooded figure stepped forth from the shadows and threw off its robes, revealing what should have been the source of her night terrors. The stout simian with his purple robes and piercing green eyes. He stared at her, hands concealed within his sleeves.

“Come you to make a deal?” he asked, bone-chilling voice rolling over her and causing her to shiver despite herself. Before she could respond he answered for her, “Me thinks not. You have not said the words that summon me, you come not to make a deal with Yono. What brings you here then?”

She hadn’t said the words for more than that. Even if she had wanted to make a deal she didn’t know the chant used to summon him. But since he had a new disciple to educate he certainly had no reason to sleep. She would only do what she had come for if she could gain his permission, for she knew from previous experience she could not win against him in a fight.

“I come to make peace with my past,” she answered him.

He cocked his head, seemingly confused by her words, “What past need you make peace with? You are not Yono’s student. Yono has no grudge against you.”

She knew how his powers worked. He was called Yono the Destroyer, but his destructive powers were only utilized when under control of one who had agreed to follow his path. Otherwise, he cared little for humanity and the world the inhabited. Too little to wish destruction upon them all.

“I was there,” she began, “that day you took your newest student. I watched as his fate became sealed at the hands of you and the Han. I knew it was not my place to interfere; but even now, no matter how many years pass my heart cries injustice and dishonor. I come only to make peace with my past. To speak upon him whether or not he speaks back.”

The Yono studied her, “Yono accepts even knowing your heart. You wish to see him freed from this path, but Yono will tell you now: he cannot live while Yono exists.”

“I understand,” she replied, “I only wish to speak with him.”

“Very well,” Yono said, “Go to him and speak,” with a puff of smoke he vanished, though that did not necessarily mean he had left.

She leapt atop the spires of the temple, coming to rest in front of him. As custom dictated she bowed to him.

“Monkey Fist,” she began, wondering how to start, “I am certain that if you could hear me you would wonder what I am doing here, though more likely you would probably wonder who I am. Years have passed, and while you have stayed the same, everything else has changed. I shall remind you, I have been there at every turn attempting to stop you when you attacked my home. It was I who recruited your enemy, Stoppable-san, to help search for my master and mistakenly led you into the clutches of one you wished to evade… I,” she paused for a moment and bowed.

“For that I am sorry. But now that you remember I may tell you my purpose for coming here. I wished to make peace with you. And yet I cannot figure out how. Perhaps apologizing is what I need to do to end the curse you have placed upon me. I am sorry, Monkey Fist, that you have met your end this way.

“It is fitting, for your obsession to be your end. That is what logic dictates, that is what honor dictates. And honor is all I have ever known. I was there you know; I saw what happened: _how_ it happened. And I was frozen with fear. Yet, something within me cried out to act. But what could I do?”

There was silence, as she knew there would be. He could not answer her, he was still nothing more than stone.

“I do not know either,” she said to him, “There was nothing I could do in that moment. That is what I believed then. With that I tried to live my life. Seasons changed, and years passed and yet I could never forget. A wound that should have healed with time has only festered in my heart, filling it with guilt to the point where it has become unbearable. And yet I do not know how to assuage it. Should I beg your forgiveness even though you cannot answer my plea? Should I have made a deal with the Yono in order to spare your life? What could I have done that would stop this pain I feel in my chest?”

There were tears in her eyes now. And she was so concerned with the motionless figure of the Monkey King that she did not notice the demigod hovering nearby, watching her lament.

“No, even if I knew what I should have done, I most likely would not have done it. How could I forsake everything I’ve ever known for you, an enemy? You were not a good man, never. But can I claim to be any different than you? When your final defeat came I felt immense relief that you could never again harm all that I love. Is that what causes my guilt?”

She stared at him, into his unseeing eyes. Vulnerable in this moment something she had unconsciously buried inside her heart after their first encounter saw their chance to escape.

“You were not a good man, and yet there was something about you that would draw someone in. It was how you convinced Fukushima to turn traitor, it was how you convinced Kim Possible to help you retrieve the idol that granted you your powers. It is what has caused me years of sleepless nights. Did you know that? Sleep has been impossible for me since the day this happened. Every time I seek rest all I see is you. You _haunt_ me Monkey Fist. To the point where I am jeopardizing everything –do you know what would happen to me if I were discovered here? And I only wish I could figure out why: why would I do all of this, why won’t you quit my thoughts, why does your demise stay with me like no other enemy I’ve ever had?”

The Yono watched the young woman as she sought answers from one who could not give them. He was fairly impressed, “To move the heart of one so dark, perhaps there is more light in me than I had thought,” he spoke to himself, “And I too grow weary of this mortal world. I wish to spend my time in oblivion where I can finally be at rest. But Monkey Fist cannot live as I do, that is our deal. And yet, perhaps there is a way for him to live, and I to live on.”

The monkey demigod centered his energy, focusing it and releasing. Everything, all his energy he sent elsewhere and without thought nor voice, nor sound he disappeared. What Yori couldn’t see from her position in front of him, was the new mark of the Yono that appeared on Monkey Fist’s back: etching itself into his clothes and his flesh.

“Is this what they call love?” Yori asked aloud, “It couldn’t be, for any affection would be doomed. You would never change, and neither can I. you would never allow yourself to feel love’s embrace, and I know not what true affection is. Stoppable-san I did have what could be considered feelings for, but what I feel towards you is nothing like that. And yet it is not hatred. I suppose I will never have my answer: but at last I feel the guilt in my heart subsiding, the cry of injustice resting. I feel, free. And I thank you for giving me this opportunity. This will be the last time we ever meet. Farewell, Monkey King.”

Without thinking her actions through she placed a kiss upon his stone flesh. It was nothing close to romantic, it was barely a peck. But she had done it and with her business done she fled. In doing so she missed the transformation the act of affection had wrought. From the spot where her lips had touched his flesh light began to glow and the stone began to recede. The temple sunk back into the earth, leaving only him behind.

A man of flesh and bone once more he tried to get his bearings. He was alive, but how? Where was the Yono? Where was the torment the ancient scrolls had spoken of were he to be defeated? And most importantly: _why_ did his lips burn as though caressed by another’s? No matter, he decided as he began to walk, the Monkey King had returned.

**Author's Note:**

> As always reviews, comments, and constructive criticism always welcomed. Hoped you enjoyed!


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